


I Wanna Get Better

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, High School, M/M, Songfic, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school is hard on everyone, and Stan Marsh knows this all too well- the stress of high school and questioning his true feelings for his best friend Kyle have driven him to look for himself at the bottom of a bottle. But with his ex-girlfriend determined to get him clean, his best friend bringing up the past and confusion abound, can Stan kick his dangerous habit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Get Better

**Author's Note:**

> TW for heavy alcohol abuse. Based on the song 'I Wanna Get Better' by Bleachers.

[(Hey, I hear the voice of a preacher from the back room   
Calling my name and I follow just to find you   
I trace the faith to a broken down television and put on the weather)]

“Stan?”

The voice was quiet and muffled from outside the bathroom door. It sounded like it had come from miles away, indistinguishable. 

“Kyle?” Stan started crawling towards the door. The hall light came on, creating line of light in the crack between the wood and the floor. The door opened before he could reach it.

“Jesus, you’re still here?” It wasn’t Kyle. It was Wendy, her mascara smudged everywhere and a slight sway to her stance. “It’s like, five. Everyone left hours ago.”

“Kyle?” Stan croaked again.

“Yeah, he’s gone too.” Wendy ran a hand through her tangled hair. “He’s been gone since 10. Stan, are you okay?”

As if to answer her question, Stan’s back shot up and he scuttled back over towards the toilet, retching like his life depended on it. Wendy was at his side in a moment, patting his shoulder as the last remains of multiple Jell-O shots left his body.

“Christ.” Wendy held her nose. “Is that everything, you think?”

Stan nodded meekly, his bottom lip trembling. He hated throwing up.

“Okay. Come on, you.” She slung his arm over her shoulders, hoisting him up and helping him downstairs to the cool, dark basement, dropping him onto an old torn-up couch. “I’m going to go get you some water and Advil.” 

Stan patted around the dark for a bit before his hand landed on the remote. He slid his thumb up to the top right corner and pressed. The TV started blaring.

“Hey there Jerry, when are you going to bring us some warm weather?”  
“Well I dont control the weather, Tom, I just report it!”  
“Haha! Fuck you, Jerry!”

Wendy came back and dropped some pills into his hand, letting him chase them down with a cool glass of water. “Around what time did you start to sober up?” She asked.

“Uh, two? Maybe three.” Stan replied, greedily drinking down more water.

“Stan.” She put a hand on his knee, and he caught her icy gaze. “I don’t think this is healthy. This, going out and getting wasted all the time… It can’t be. No, it’s not healthy for you.”

“I know you’re concerned for me, and I appreciate it.” Stan wiggled away. Her hand felt like lead on his leg. “But you’re not my mother, Wendy. I can take care of myself.”

“I am concerned for you!” Wendy said, “and I am your girlfriend. I think I should have some say in what I think is best for you.”

“No.” Was all Stan could say. “No, no, no nonononono.”

“What?”

“I can’t… This isn’t.” Stan stood up quickly, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling fan. “You can’t be my girlfriend anymore.”

“I… What?” Wendy whispered. “Are you breaking up with me?”

Stan, under no control of his own, started sobbing. “Yes.” He choked. “It’s… I’m not… I’m so sorry, Wendy.” And he put his head on her shoulder.

To his surprise, he felt her hand gently petting the side of his head. “It’s him, isn’t it? It’s because of him.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s concerned about you too, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got to stop.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“I’ll stop with you, okay? I’ll help.”

“Okay.”

[(And I've trained myself to give up on the past 'cause  
I frozen time between hearses and caskets   
Lost control when I panicked at the acid test   
I wanna get better)]

“Shit. Shit shit shit Kyle help me.”

“What’s up?” The redhead stepped away from his computer and towards Stan, who was fumbling with the mouse. 

“I don’t… How do I… I need your help. It stopped on the green one.”

“Oh, shit.” Kyle put his hand over Stan’s on the mouse, dragging them along the mousepad. “Okay, to your knowledge is the browser using the default settings?”

“Yeah, I didn’t touch anything.” Stan sighed, feeling a blush rise on his face.

“Okay. Uh,” Kyle still had his hand over Stans, “What if we… There.” 

Stan had no clue what Kyle did, but the rest of the colourful boxes lined the screen. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Kyle removed his hand from Stan’s and ruffled the taller boy’s hair before walking away.

“I hate comm. tech.” Stan lamented.

[(While my friends were getting high and chasing girls down parkway lines   
I was losing my mind 'cause the love, the love, the love, the love, the love  
That I gave wasted on a nice face)]

“Hey baby.” Craig nodded at Bebe, flicking the end of his cigarette. The blonde scoffed and sauntered off.

“Can you go, like, one day without hitting on someone?” Kenny chuckled, taking a long drag from his beer. There was no response from Craig, just a middle finger pointed at the blonde boy.

The sun beat down on the back alley behind the high school. Kenny and Craig teased each other, laughing, drinking and smoking, normal teenage things. Stan sat on a big block on concrete that had been left there long ago, probably during the construction process, his head in his hands.

“Stan, dude. You alright?” Kenny asked. He had stopped laughing at whatever Craig had said long enough to notice that his friend had fallen behind.

Stan gave a sniff. “Yeah.”

Kenny crouched down in front of the jet-haired boy. “Listen. I know you’re bummed about the whole breaking-up-with-Wendy situation, but it’s not like it was going to last forever, right?”

“I’m not upset about breaking up with Wendy.” Stan clarified. “I’m upset because now she thinks I’m an asshole. I don’t wanna be that guy. And now it’s all like.. It’s all so fucked, you know?”

“I know.” Kenny nodded sympathetically. “Beer?”

Stan took the amber bottle and chugged the entire thing.

[(In a blaze of fear I put a helmet on a helmet   
Counting seconds through the night and got carried away   
So now I'm standing on the overpass screaming at the cars,  
"Hey, I wanna get better!")]

One drink.  
It had been one drink.

Somehow one in the alley had turned into four at Kenny’s, then six at Craig’s, and then ten at Bebe’s. For the first time since before he sobered up at Wendy’s, Stan felt without a care in the world. The music was pounding, his blood was practically made of alcohol and dancing with Heidi did wonders for forgetting about certain redheaded boys.

Some dance song that Stan didn’t recognize was just ending when he caught sight of a pair of hazel eyes staring him down, the same icy stare he’d seen not three nights prior. “Wendy?”

“Stan.” She muttered. She took his wrist and dragged him outside. Kenny had someone pinned against the stucco outside of the house, so Wendy tapped his leg with the sole of her shoe. Kenny and whoever he had been sucking face with ran off. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Having a grand old time, baby!” Stan sang. “What are you doing here?”

“Mediating,” Wendy crossed her arms in a huff, “Bebe and Red are fighting. I’ve got to be the one who- nevermind. I thought you were stopping?”

“Well I was, but then I was with Kenny and Craig and I just got carried away.” Stan loudly whispered.

Without warning, Wendy slapped him. “Do you not understand what is going to happen if you don’t stop this kind of behaviour?” She screamed. “I’m trying to fucking help you. I’m trying to- God damnit,” She snatched a beer out of Clyde’s hand as he passed by and took a long, heavy sip. “I try so fucking hard to help you, Marsh. I really tried. All three years that we went out, I helped you study, I talked to the coaches on your football team for you when you needed to miss a practice, and even now, after all this, you still completely disregard everything I say.”

“Whoa.” Stan shook his head like a dog emerging from water. “Wendy, I- I’m sorry. Really.” He dropped his bottle on the concrete, letting it smash. “Look. I’m done, okay? I promise.” He stuck out a hand. “Friends?”

“Friends.” Wendy reluctantly matched his hand with one of her own. When Stan began to sway a bit, she put an arm around his waist and held him up. “Let’s get you home, drinky smurf.”

The path to his house seemed like years to Stan, when it was really just a few miles up over the interstate and to the other side of town. They trekked over the overpass, Wendy holding a hand over Stan’s eyes so that the lights from oncoming cars wouldn’t hurt his head.

“Hey Wendy?” He slurred.

“Yeah?” Wendy replied.

“Thanks. I’m gonna really try, I am.” He kissed the top of her head.

[(I go up to my room and there's girls on the ceiling   
Cut out their pictures and I chase that feeling   
Of an eighteen year old who didn't know what loss was   
Now I'm a stranger)]

"We aren't going to make it to your place," Wendy heaved, "I'm so tired. You're so drunk. Let's just crash at mine."

Stan lolled his head in response. 

When they got to Wendy's, Stan tiptoed over to the couch. Wendy turned on the TV for him and left. 

"Won't that wake up your folks?" Stan asked lazily. 

"They're still out of town." Wendy answered from the den. She came back into the room a moment later with a shoebox and some scissors. 

"What's that?" Stan pointed at the shoebox. 

"I just want to, uh, you don't have to watch. This is just gonna make me feel better." She opened the box and ruffled through it for a few seconds before pulling out a handful of pictures. 

"Shit." Stan muttered, gazing at the papers. "You had them developed."

"Yes." Wendy said coldly before taking the scissors and slicing between the smiling faces of 9th grade Stan and Wendy. 

"I'm so sorry, Wendy." Stan groaned. "Really. I didn't want it to go like this. I'm... I can't help it."

"Of course not." Wendy smiles blithely. "It's not your fault you're in love with him."

They cut the rest of the pictures together. It was strangely freeing, to be able to do it so simply. No hard feelings. Friends. 

[(And I miss the days of a life still permanent   
Mourn the years before I got carried away   
So now I'm staring at the interstate screaming at myself,  
"Hey, I wanna get better!")]

"I heard about you and Wendy dude." Kyle sat beside him on the hill overlooking the interstate. "I'm sorry."

"It was mutual." Stan lied. "We both want, uh, different things."

"I hear she's shacking up with Token again." Kyle commented. 

"Good for her." He didn't want it to come out sarcastic, Wendy had told him herself about her encounter with the towns rich kid the day prior, but Stans mind make it sound like he hated his ex-girlfriends guys. 

"Sorry." Was all Kyle had to say. 

"No, it's fine." Stan back peddled, "we're on good terms. Great terms, actually." 

"That's good!" Kyle beamed. "Oh, by the way; look what I found." From his jacket he pulled out a Polaroid photograph. Stan studied it. In the picture, 10 year old Stan and Kyle were grinning large as could be, arms wrapped around each other's necks. The caption underneath, in Kyles moms district hand writing, read 'Super Best Friends- Stan M. & Kyle B. August 21st, 2003'. They looked so... Happy. 

"Shit, dude." Stan quickly wiped at his cheek. 

"Oh, I didn't mean to make you upset." Kyle laced his fingers with Stans. "I just thought it was cool."

"It's not that." Stan blankly gazed out at the road ahead. "I just miss... That."

[('Cause I'm sleeping in the back of a taxi   
I'm screaming from my bedroom window   
Even if its gonna kill me)]

“Fuck, again?” Wendy screeched. “I can’t believe this, Stan. I just.. I can’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry, you guys.” Stan slurred, mouth full of blood. “Craig gave me a drink, and then Clyde was talking shit. Had to teach a bitch a lesson.”

“You’re drunk.” Kyle sighed. “Stan.” He crouched down in front of the drunk. His voice was teetering on the edge of tears. “You need to stop.”

“Okay.” Stan’s head lolled onto his right shoulder. “Can you take me home?” I wanna go to bed.”

“We’re all buzzed.” Wendy sighed exasperatedly. “I’ll call a cab.”

\--

Kyle helped Stan into bed.

“Kyle, it’s hot in here.” Stan whined.

“I’ll open a window.” Kyle stepped back and turned, hishands fumbling with the glass pane. “Uh, how do you open your…?” In all the years that Kyle had spent learning Stan’s room, he had never once thought to open the god damn window.

“You have to flip the… Here, I’ll do it.” Stan stumbled out of bed and fiddled with the window. A few moments later it swung open. “Ahh,” he sighed at the cool air. And then, without warning, he began to scream.

“Holy shit dude!” Kyle exclaimed, taking the screeching boy by his shoulders and shoving him onto his bed. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry.” Stan stated calmly, as if nothing had happened at all.

“Stan.” Kyle whispered. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.”

With that, Kyle crawled into bed next to the drunk boy, placing a tender kiss on his jaw.

[(Woke up this morning early before my family  
From this dream where she was trying to show me   
How a life can move from the darkness   
She said to get better)]

When Stan woke, Kyle was gone.

There was, however, a tapping at his window every few seconds. The grey light sitting stagnant in his window only served to worsen his hangover, but he soldiered out of bed to silence whatever was waking him. Upon looking out his window, he discovered that Wendy had been throwing rocks at the glass. 

"Christ." He muttered as he trudged down the stairs. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" He cried as he swung open his front door. 

"Checking on you," Wendy replied, "I didn't want to wake your parents." 

The pair sat together on the front steps. "I'm fine." Stan admonished. "Hungover as hell, but fine."

"Where'd Kyle go?" She asked. "He texted and said he was going to stay with you today."

"No clue." Stan sighed, rubbing the place on his jaw where he could still feel Kyles Orange stubble. 

"Oh. What happened last night?" Wendy asked. "I mean, besides the fight. After you two got home."

"I don't remember much." Stan confessed. "I remember falling on my bed, then Kyle kissed me."

"WHAT!?” Wendy screeched, a smile stretching across her face as she slapped his arm.  
“On the cheek!” Stan defended. “Also, ow.”

“Sorry.” Wendy chuckled. “God, that’s awesome though! That’s adorable.”

“Yeah.” Stan grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. “It was pretty rad.”

It was silent for a few moments before Wendy spoke again, and in a nauseating bout of deja vu Stan was reminded of the night he broke up with her. “You’re on your way. I know it doesn’t feel like it but you’re doing better each and every day. I see improvements every minute. I’m so, so proud of you, Marsh.”

“Thanks, Testaburger.” He giggled. And then, just like the night weeks prior, she laid her head on his shoulder.

[(So I put a bullet where I shoulda put a helmet   
And I crash my car cause I wanna get carried away   
That's why I'm standing on the overpass screaming at myself,  
"Hey, I wanna get better!")]

A few hours after Wendy left, the sky had cleared up a bit and Stan decided after a thorough shower that it was a lovely day to become immersed in the town. He grabbed the keys to the old lemon he had bought with his inheritance money and set out the door without even saying goodbye to his father, who was lounging on the couch.

After having traveled down the main stretch of Bonanza street, he spotted Kyle, Butters and Kenny walking at the end of the road. He kept on staring at them, and suddenly it was as if he was back in his bed with Kyle wrapped around his torso in a loving embrace. Kyle caught his eye and waved. Stan smiled and waved back.

And as soon as he waved, his car was wrapped in a very real embrace with a lamp post.

When the loud screeching in his ears faded, he could hear Kyle’s worried voice outside his crumpled door. Butters was crying somewhere in the distance (he couldn’t be sure how far he had traveled since he caught sight of the trio). He undid his seatbelt and kicked open the door.

“Stan! Shit dude, are you okay?” Kyle’s hat had fallen off somewhere down the road, and his hair was awkwardly bunching on his forehead from the wind.

“I’m fine.” Stan smiled. He seemed to be unable to stop staring at Kyle. He stepped forward, put a hand on Kyle’s face and kissed him dead on the mouth. From what felt like miles away, Kenny and Butters were either cheering or laughing (probably both), but Stan could barely tell.

Kyle, on the other hand, was acutely aware of everything happening to him at the moment, sure that this was all some sort of fucked-up dream. Everything around him sharpened painfully fast, and though the feeling of Stan grasping him like he was the last thing locked to the earth was divine, he almost didn’t want to believe it. It was over in an instant, and the cold rush of where Stan’s lips had been hit him all too fast. He managed to wrench his eyes open to see the brunette boy smiling down at him softly.

“Are you okay?” Kyle asked and pointed to the wrecked car, still partly refusing to believe what had just transpired.

“Never better.” Stan replied, refusing to lose the soft grin, because he knew from the tone of the redhead’s voice that everything, for once, was going to be alright.

“I- you just crashed. Are you okay?” Kyle asked, and the truth was beginning to settle upon him like a fine mist- their future was fixed. It had been from the start.

“Shut up.” Stan laughed, right out loud, and kissed Kyle again.

[(I didn't know I was lonely 'til I saw your face  
I wanna get better, better, better, better,  
I wanna get better   
I didn't know I was broken 'til I wanted to change   
I wanna get better, better, better, better,   
I wanna get better)]

Three knocks came from just outside of Stan’s bedroom door, as did a myriad of voices. “Come in!” He called, refusing to look away from the mirror for fear that the moment his hands left his meticulously crafted knot on his blue tie, it would fall apart.

The door swung open and in spilled Kenny, Butters, Wendy, and Kyle, all dressed in the fanciest clothes South Park Mall had to offer. Wendy pressed her lips together in one of her rare genuine smiles and tilted her head to the side, her black curls dripping over her shoulder and obscuring the singular strap of her purple dress.

“You look fantastic.” She muttered with an air of sentimentality.

“As do you, Testaburger.” He gave her a quick side hug before wrapping his arms around his two other friends, leaving his boyfriend for last.

“She’s right.” Kyle nodded, fingering his own green tie. “You look pretty damn good.”

“Why thank you.” Stan grinned before placing a kiss to Kyle’s freckled nose.

“Oh my god, can you guys stop being so damn sappy?” Kenny rolled his eyes, only three-quarters joking.

“Leave ‘em alone, Ken.” Butters placed a little kiss to Kenny’s cheek, which flared up with red a moment later.

“Stop being so sappy.” Kyle lowered his voice and added a gravelly tone to it, imitating Kenny’. The blond boy flipped up his middle finger but added a smirk to show he was kidding.

“Well, you guys ready?” Wendy asked as she hoisted her purse up onto her shoulder.

“Lets go graduate!” Kenny cheered. As they began to leave, Kyle and Stan hung back for a moment to observe the calendar next to stan’s door, marveling at the date.

MAY 21ST- GRADUATION, 1 YEAR CLEAN


End file.
